Page 9 of Forsaken Hearts
She loved him so much her chest hurt, but sometimes the timing of a seven-year-old’s wants could knock the last bit of air right out of her.
Cupcakes.
She looked at her list again, trying to see where she could move seventy-nine cents here, a dollar twenty there, but her brain wouldn’t cooperate.
“Cupcakes!” Ben bounced beside her, and the store lights hummed overhead as a shopping cart squeaked at the end of the aisle.
“Cupcakes?” she repeated to buy herself time.
“Yeah!” His impish little face lit up, and he bounced on his toes so his hair flopped into his blue eyes. He needed a haircut too, but that was a whole other budget item to think through.
“Chocolate ones! Or vanilla with sprinkles. I can help stir. I’m really good at stirring.”
“You are really good at stirring, buddy.”
“I could do the frosting too. I know knives aren’t for kids, but I could use a spoon.”
That almost made her smile. Almost.
Did homemade cupcakes cost less than a box mix and jar of frosting? No—her pantry was so empty of basic staples that when she opened it that morning to make Ben’s oatmeal, she swore she saw moths fly out in search of food.
She couldn’t swing the cupcakes today, but maybe she could scrounge up enough later this week to buy him one cupcake fromthe bakery in town and surprise him. One of the big ones with way too much frosting. She might have enough to treat her son, and her hips could go without one anyway.
“Please, Mom? We haven’t made cupcakes in forever.”
He tilted his face up to hers, all hope and a missing front tooth and hair sticking up in the back because he’d fought the brush that morning like it was an attack.
What hurt the most was he wasn’t throwing a fit or whining. He was just being cute, and that was worse because she needed to give him an answer that would disappoint him.
She reached over and gently ruffled his hair. “We don’t need sweets, honey. You already have a cavity that needs filled, remember?”
More money to come up with, and every week she couldn’t earn enough meant the cavity got bigger.
Stress along with the bright overhead lights banded together to start a headache behind her eyes, but the real culprit was complete overwhelm.
Dentist. Groceries. Rent. Gas. The school shoes Ben was outgrowing even though she’d bought them five minutes ago. Every problem came with a price tag, and every price tag had her standing here longer.
Ben’s shoulders slumped. “But cupcakes are soft. They won’t hurt my tooth.”
“I know.” She smoothed his hair again because touching him made her voice steady. “But we’re going to wait on cupcakes for now.”
He sighed like the weight of the world had landed on his tiny shoulders. “Okay.”
That sweet little okay nearly undid her right there in the middle of the store.
She grabbed the cheapest can of beans she could while mentally adjusting the plan. Ben helped her push the cart forward. Pasta could move to next week. Maybe two bananas instead of a whole bunch. She could skip chicken thighs and make eggs twice, and she could do toast for her own lunch.
The scary part wasn’t going without—it was how one missing brand of baked beans could knock her whole week sideways.
She wished, not for the first time, that her life could have been different. That Ben’s father had stuck around, or stepped up, or done one decent thing without needing a parade for it. Then again, maybe it would have been harder if he had. More fighting and more broken promises.
More of her trying to drag a grown man into a life he’d never wanted badly enough to build.
She didn’t have energy after her shifts at the Stockyard and taking care of Ben to deal with a man-child. She definitely didn’t have time or energy for a relationship—not a real one. Not when she had to save what was left of her for survival.
Her ex always had excuses. They couldn’t afford a wedding right now. Like the wedding had ever been the point.
Summer could still hear herself saying it, tired and furious and younger than she was now. “I don’t want a wedding—I want a marriage.”
